Those Infernal Contraptions
by TrustTheCloak
Summary: Gilan's skate slid on a rough patch of ice, pitching him off balance. Halt had seen Gilan slip, of course, but this time was different. The angle he was falling at, the speed, something about it made the older Ranger's heart rise into his mouth. Gilan's left hand instinctively shot out to catch himself, all of his student's weight about to crash onto that one slim wrist.
"I don't know how you convinced me to do this," Halt grumbled as he finished lacing the ice skate onto his left foot. Gilan finished his usual double knot on his own skate and carefully stood, turning a smirk onto his mentor.

"It's bonding time, Halt! To prove that we actually do more than tolerate each other!"

"I thought that was exactly what we did?" Halt muttered, getting to his feet, almost falling as he did. Gilan let out a short bark of laughter.

"Whatever you say, Halt!" The boy said, stepping onto the ice and beginning to glide across it. Despite Halt's best efforts, he couldn't help a small expression of anxiety from crossing his face.

"Wait a moment, Gil. You're sure this ice is thick enough?"

"Of course, Halt, I tested it this morning. It's fine. Come on!" Gilan called, clearly enjoying the figure eights he was smoothly skating.

Halt grumbled again. "When the ice cracks and we die, I'm blaming you!" he snapped at his all too cheerful student.

"You do that, Halt. Oh, wait, you won't do that, because the ice won't crack. It's fine." Gilan said, picking up the pace until he was flying at a fairly good clip across the pond. "Just enjoy it!"

Halt gave a resigned sigh, and slowly scraped his right skate forward, struggling to keep his balance. "Infernal contraptions," he said sulkily, watching his student glide so easily and naturally across the slick surface, while he was here, barely able to keep his balance at an almost stand still. Some things weren't fair, Halt decided. He couldn't help being so bad at ice skating any more than he could help being short. Some people would say that it was a terrible comparison (mainly Gilan), but Halt was convinced that no matter how much you practiced something, there would always be people who could do it so much better. Much like his shooting and sarcasm, Halt thought with a tiny bit of smugness.

"Having fun yet?" Gilan asked as he approached his mentor, skating in a series of smooth circles around him.

"You wish," Halt growled. Gilan dug his toe into the ice, stopping beside his teacher.

"Just bend your knees and push yourself forward. It's not so hard once you get the hang of it," the youth explained, blinking his large, seemingly innocent (Halt knew better) blue eyes.

"Just, go skate!" Halt grumbled, and Gilan took off. "I'm never doing this again."

What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion, and all of Halt's irritation seemed to evaporate.

Gilan's skate slid on a rough patch of ice, pitching him off balance. Halt had seen Gilan slip, of course, but this time was different. The angle he was falling at, the speed, _something_ about it made the older Ranger's heart rise into his mouth. Gilan's left hand instinctively shot out to catch himself, all of his student's weight about to crash onto that one slim wrist.

" _Don't!_ " Halt cried out, knowing as soon as the word left his lips that it was too late. The word hit the air the moment Gilan hit the ground. A crack rang through the air, and Halt found himself scrambling toward the boy, the thoughts running through his mind interchanging between, "My apprentice is hurt, oh, no, that sounded bad", and, "I really, really do hate these skates".

After what seemed like an eternity, Halt finally reached his student, who had now sat up and was cradling his left wrist. Almost collapsing in his hurry, Halt gently moved Gilan's right hand in an attempt to see the injured arm better. "Gilan, what hurts? Tell me now."

"Halt," Gilan answered through gritted teeth. "Wrist. I think it's broken."

Halt grimaced. Sprains he could work with, but a bone knitting incorrectly could create issues long into the future. "Let's get you up. We'll have to go to the castle to get that set." Underneath his gruff tone, worry was evident.

Gilan nodded, still clenching his jaw. "Alright, then."

Getting the boy to his feet was difficult. Gilan was having trouble getting his feet under him, and Halt, unsteady on skates without a shaky apprentice clinging to him one handed, was hardly helping. After a small struggle, Halt managed to get the boy up, though he inadvertently knocked Gilan's hurt wrist in the process.

"Alright, I get it, it's broken!" Gilan had snapped, pain making his temper short and his tone uncharacteristically sharp.

Wrenching Gilan's skates off and quickly tying on the boy's boots, Halt quickly attended to his own, throwing the skates down with a withering glare. Efficiently fastening Gilan's cloak over the boy's shoulders and tucking the fabric around him with a rare tenderness, despite the boy's protests, Halt hauled him up again, much easier this time now that they were on solid ground. Together, the two Rangers began the walk to the castle.

* * *

"This is like a glove, but worse." Gilan pondered from where he sat at the table, eating his stew and feeling immensely grateful that at least he had landed on his left wrist rather then his dominant right. The left wrist was thickly wrapped, rendering it completely immobile.

Halt glanced up from his own bowl. "You'll leave the wrap alone. You won't poke or prod or play at it." It was a statement, not a question.

Gilan bit his lip and glanced at the wrap. "I suppose..." He said reluctantly. The wrap was starting to itch just thinking about it.

Halt's dark eyes bore into Gilan's blue. "I'm serious, Gilan. You won't touch that wrap. Bones are tricky and I won't have you ruining that arm due to stupid fiddling."

Gilan flinched. Ruin his arm? "I won't mess with the wrap."

Halt nodded, satisfied that his point had been made.

"When can I skate again?"

Halt nearly choked on his mouthful of coffee. "You're really asking that? _Right now?_ "

"The healer said the wrap could come off in eight weeks."

"Wait eight weeks, then we'll talk."

"I could technically skate with the cast..."

"Not a chance."

"But-"

"Gilan." It was uncanny how Halt could transmit all he needed to say in that one word.

Gilan flinched, then said brightly, "Eight weeks it is then! Because Halt is always right?" A cheery grin was plastered on his face.

Halt gave a small snort. "I _am_ always right." The Ranger said knowingly. Gilan shook his head, a genuine smile now lighting up his face, and Halt couldn't help his lips from twitching upward. Gilan drove him near to madness at times, but the happiness that Gilan brought him made him feel extremely lucky that he was able to call this tall, lanky, blue eyed boy his apprentice.

* * *

 **Fluff, fluff, fluff. Based off of letter I in my story _Little Things in Between._**

 **My muse died. I should have updates coming soon, sorry for the lack of updates, but it should be getting better.**

 **Reviews are muse CPR.**

 **-TrustTheCloak**


End file.
